That Wasn't the Plan

by Jason Cheek

  One wrong call on this would put her troopers in the wrong spot to stop the gates from being breached. If she guessed wrong, her troopers would be forced into an ugly street-to-street battle to push the newfar out of Darom. If she guessed incorrectly, then she risked handing the enemy the rest of their people to add to their future attacks. Normally, Butcher would’ve simply ignored the young Gnomeling. The problem was that the young Gnomeling was her liege lord’s companion. That gave much more weight to any argument she gave. Growling in frustration, Butcher had made the best call she could at the time. Leaving her standby force to protect the outer wall, she led the rest of her troopers to protect the dungeon. Luckily enough for all of them, that had been the correct call.

  While Butcher’s standby force had managed to hold the wall, a number of her troopers had fallen to the newfar’s assault. Not that she’d know the extent of their losses until much later. That was because Zinnaemita’s and her odd team’s warning had been spot on. The enemies’ main push had been to rescue their people in the city’s prison, and it had taken Butcher’s main force everything they had to stop the Dread Pack’s plan.

  Unfortunately, even outnumbered ten to one, the newfar had put up an incredible fight. Between their Flame Shield and Flame Strike abilities, they’d inflicted massive casualties amongst her troopers. Though, the majority of those deaths had occurred when Butcher had ordered her troopers to take back the lower halls of the prison. If she would have listened to Zinnaemita’s advice and kept the enemy trapped underground, the battle would have gone very differently, but she’d been too focused on pushing the enemy out of Darom completely to think clearly at the time.

  The only thing Butcher could do was to learn from her mistake. That, and to put the dead safely aside for Lord Ironwolf’s return, so that he could bring them back to life with his Light magic. Still, it was cold solace for her and her officers, but it was a lesson that they’d all taken to heart. Otherwise, the battle so far was a resounding success.

  Even so, the Dread Pack guild hadn’t stopped their attacks against the city. Maybe it was better to say, because of that the Dread Pack guild didn’t stop their attacks against the city. The attacks continued well into the next day with continuous assaults being sent against the outer walls, while groups of stealthers were constantly harrying her forces inside the city itself. Thankfully, her troopers had managed to keep the civilians secure and had beat the attacks back with only minimal losses. Although, the constant losses were starting to take their toll on her ability to do her job. Meaning, even though she’d accomplished the primary mission that she’d been given by her liege lord, the situation was starting to look grim. Even so, the situation had fallen into an uneasy status quo, Sub-Leader Butcher thought with an angry snort, one that she could handle for now if she must.

  Unfortunately, their luck didn’t hold for more than a few hours. Shortly after dawn, Sub-Leader Butcher had been awoken to the terrible news that the prisoners were missing. From what her guards were able to explain, they’d been rushed by a handful of Dread Pack members, and although the newfar had been defeated readily enough, the guards had quickly discovered that the rest of the prisoners were nowhere to be found. No one knew how they’d managed to escape since they hadn’t shown up at the local graveyards. Shortly thereafter, the attacks against the city had all but stopped.

  While Butcher had allowed her troopers to enjoy their victory, she’d privately pulled her officers aside to set them straight on the situation. While she hoped the battle for Darom was over, in her heart she knew that it wasn’t. In the back of her mind, she heard her father’s words of warning that had come from a lifetime of living next to the sea. There was always a calm before the storm. Those simple words rang true to her now more than ever. So, while the survivors had celebrated, she’d met with Captain Windcoat and late Admiral Davis to express her concerns.

  Honestly, it had surprised her to see the late Admiral in Lord Ironwolf’s service. Even more so, that he’d been invited by the Gnomeling commander to assist in getting the Howling Squadron’s biremes sea worthy again for the coming evacuation. It was just another example how her new liege used every possible asset to keep his people safe. Normally, a Gnomeling would have never sought the help of a true-blooded human.

  To her astonishment, both leaders readily heard her fears out. The gist being that she was concerned that her current forces wouldn’t be able to hold out if the Dread Pack renewed their assault against the city. Instead of outright dismissing her concerns, both officers had readily agreed with her analysis of the situation and were making preparations to evacuate the civilians to the ships if the city’s walls were breeched. On top of that, Captain Windcoat said she would have her marines begin creating fallback positions around the docks and suggested that Butcher do the same throughout the streets of Darom.

  It was harsh to be told to prepare to set fire to the city of your own birth, but it was better to do that than allow for it to be home to such evil as these Dead Pack newfar. Doubly so, if it helped to save her people’s lives, which was the essence of her mission from her new liege, Lord Ironwolf. He’d warned them that there was a very high probability that Darom would come under attack by the newfar before he could return. So, he’d charged them ahead of time with coming up with a plan to evacuate the civilians and then the soldiers.

  Thinking of the severe Half-Elf filled Butcher’s heart with conflicting emotions. She’d initially had only promised to swear to serve him so save her brother’s life. Well, her brother and the rest of her troopers that had been slaughtered by the Dread Pack guild that had taken over Darom. Like anyone of a different race, she’d expected to be treated with derision and had accepted that as the price to pay for the lives of her brother and comrades in arms. Shockingly enough that had not been the case, which was one of the most baffling things about the odd man she now called liege lord. So much so, that it had made her start to question the nature of prejudice.

  It was natural to have a general dislike for mix-bloods, aka halflings, within The World. While the humanoid races were all part of the Grand Alliance, in truth, there’d always been interspecies prejudice and bias. While it was never great enough to drive the alliance apart completely, it was strong enough to keep royal units divided upon racial lines. In general, this mindset put halflings at a disadvantage within the various races of the Nordic region, and was why they were generally hated by whatever races whose blood ran through their veins. Without a race to call their own, they were discriminated against by everyone.

  While this had caused a number of dark whispers at first within the troopers’ ranks, Lord Ironwolf’s insistence to put the commoner’s lives before that of a noble, lord, or even the royal family had won the survivors of Darom over. It was self-evident in Lord Ironwolf’s every interaction that he didn’t care one way or another about a person’s race, sex, or social standing. All that was important to him was who you were as an individual. Did you have honor? Did you pitch in and work hard to get the mission done? Could you be relied upon? Would you watch out for your comrade in arms standing next to you even if they were of another race? It was an entirely foreign way of thinking, but one that had immediately resonated with everyone in the city.

  Until now, Butcher had never considered the topic of prejudice one way or another. Humans disliked anyone that wasn’t Human. Dwarves disliked anyone that wasn’t a Dwarf. It was just the way of The World. She’d never thought to challenge or question that basic precept one way or another. Not until she’d found herself swearing her allegiance to a halfling of all things.

  Honestly, it made no sense. Lord Ironwolf should have treated all of them with spite. That he didn’t was the most confusing thing about him. Even more shocking, he treated all of them as equals. Butcher’s face screwed up in consternation as she considered her thoughts carefully. It was difficult to think of concepts like this and not fall back into the old ways of thought. She didn’t mean he treated them as equals in the se
nse that they all had the same abilities, because they most assuredly didn’t. Nor did he treat them equally in regard to their positions, per se. That wasn’t it either. What he did do was treat them as having equal worth … not just every race, but every individual.

  Her mind lit up like a lightbulb as she finally understood what had been bothering her this whole time. The main point that had stood out so strangely in Lord Ironwolf’s odd attitude. It was that the individual had worth to him.

  Sub-Leader Butcher didn’t understand concepts of individual responsibility and worth. She’d grown up in a culture that only looked at people as a group … as a social class, a tribe … or a race. Individually, she’d had never had any worth above her social level or that of her race. Being raised as a peasant in a bustling port city, those societal divisions were a simple fact of life that she had lived with every single day. You were either noble born or you weren’t. You were either a city peasant that had minor worth or you were a dirt farmer that had none. You were either part of the Human race or you weren’t. There was no such thing as individual worth.

  Okay, sometimes an individual soldier could do something so astounding that it lifted them out of the social class that they’d been born into, but it was so rare as to be more fantasy than reality. For most peasants born into The World, your worth was based on your race and the trade of your family. You were a farmer or a trader or a butcher. It didn’t matter how hard you worked or what you knew. Unless you were an elder like Old Man Fortner, individually you had no standing in the community. It was simply the way things were.

  Butcher’s inner contemplation was interrupted as the massive gates to the city began giving out under the constant bombardment. Although she had no more time to ponder the thoughts that had been filling her mind, they nonetheless seemed to empower her to fight in a way that she’d never felt before. It was the same unspoken feelings of worth that were affecting all of the troopers standing along alongside her that were waiting to repel the Dread Pack that were seeking to destroy them and the people they’d sworn to protect. As the iron-reinforced wood finally gave away, Sub-Leader Butcher’s voice rang out clearly over the fiery explosions.

  “Prepare to repel invaders!”

  To either side in front of her, the command was repeated by the four Team-Leaders around her as the swordsmen and swordswomen gripped their shields and drew their blades to ready themselves for battle. By now, the gate was a burning inferno when another round of Flame Strikes hit it. This time, instead of holding together against the impacts, the burning wood exploded fifty-feet into the kill zone of the inner courtyard in an impressive display of raw power as her troopers braced their shields.

  Sub-Leader Butcher’s experienced eyes searched the black smoke for signs of the first wave of invaders. In her mind’s eye, she could see the Dread Pack’s forces rushing the gap, thinking that they’d finally breached the defenses. Knowing what she’d do if she had such power at her disposal. Butcher did her best to count down seconds it would take for them to cross the distance under fire. When she reached forty-two seconds, her voice rang out once again.

  “Shield Wall!” Butcher shouted as the command was once again repeated by her Team-Leaders. Immediately, the points of the troopers’ shields slammed into the cobblestones as the front row braced and hunkered down behind the defensive wall, while the second row held their shields high and at an angle to ward off any artillery-style ranged attacks from getting between their armored ranks. “Brace for impact!”

  Almost as soon as the words left her mouth, Flame Strikes came hurtling out of the thick smoke and into the inner courtyard. None of the fiery balls of magic made it to their defensive line that was fifty-yards back from the archway. Nonetheless, the explosions created when the destructive magic smashed against the cobblestones sent waves of searing heat and stone shards out over their defensive formation.

  The line held without a problem. All of the swordsmen and swordswomen standing with her were volunteers. Their job was to be the enemy’s focus to get them into the proper position for the rest of their forces. Some might have argued that Sub-Leader Butcher should have stayed out of the fight to direct her people’s efforts better. While that might have been true, she wasn’t about to have the men and women serving under her command do something like this alone. The billowing smoke suddenly churned in the gateway as the first of the Dead Pack’s forces entered Darom.

  Shimmering with their red Flame Shields in place, the front line of newfar strode through the archway, shrugging off the burning inferno like it was nothing. Although, that slow advance quickly turned into a hurried, blind stumble as the newfar suddenly started coughing their lungs out. The only thing that Butcher could think was happening were that the newfars’ Flame Shields weren’t protecting them from the heavy smoke. She mentally tucked that bit of information away. It might not seem like much, but it was a chink in the Dread Pack’s impressive armor. One that she hoped to find a use for in the near future.

  Seeing Sub-Leader Butcher’s force arrayed before them drew the Dread Pack’s instant aggro. Before they’d fully cleared the gateway, more Flame Strikes came soaring at the defensive line as the cobble stones in front of the Shield Wall exploded from the powerful impacts. While the heat and stone shards flying through the air were a deadly combination, Butcher realized they had to spring the trap now.

  This was the opening that Zinnaemita had meant, Sub-Leader Butcher suddenly thought as she watched the newfar struggling to get through the choking smoke to enter the city. The young Gnomeling hadn’t known exactly what the opening would be, but she said that Butcher would recognize it as a sign to spring the surprise attack. Putting two fingers to her lips, a shrill whistle sounded above the noise of fighting as her troopers sprang out of hiding.

  Ten-yards behind her on top of the two buildings, a hundred troopers bearing heavy crossbows jumped up and began sending heavy bolts into the newfar’s Flame Shields. At the same time, the second row of her troopers standing before the fiery portal lifted up their heavy crossbows on poles and opened fire. While the newfar focused on the attackers ahead of them, the troopers in the guardhouses to either side of the entrance sprang to the windows and opened fire on the newfars’ flanks from the upper floors.

  The overwhelming attack slaughtered the first twenty Dread Pack players in the lead before they truly understood what had happened. Not that the sudden deaths stopped the newfar in the rear from pushing their raid mates through the entrance. If anything, the speed they were passing through the gate just increased. Even so, the Dread Pack’s Flame Shields sparkled and failed as more of the newfar went down from the storm of heavy bolts filling the archway.

  At first, it looked like the ambush was working like a charm as the first twenty newfar went down with barely a fight. The count steadily rose to fifty and then seventy-five. It wasn’t until the kill count was approaching a hundred that Butcher saw the writing on the wall. Too many of the Dread Pack were getting into the inner courtyard. Already, they were hammering the troopers attacking them from the gatehouses and shutting them down. Not only that, there were now enough survivors that the newfar could rotate out those with Flame Shields to stop the majority of their people from being wiped out.

  Another whistle from Sub-Leader Butcher and the troopers on the outer wall divided their fire between the inner and outer walls. The additional weight of fire began dropping the invaders once again as the injured that tried to fall back to the rear fell. Unfortunately, without the additional weight of the gatehouses’ ranged fire, the enemy was dying too slow.

  Butcher was just debating if she should hold onto her last trump card or not, when a shooting pain pierced the middle of her back as her hit points noticeably dropped. As shouts of pain rang out up and down the line from the troopers around her, the cold iron pierced her back three more times in quick succession as the Dread Pack’s stealthers attacked in force. Butcher was sure that she was going to die as she struggled against her attacker
in vain, when the man’s Flame Shield suddenly disappeared in a burst of sparks right before he screamed in agony and clutched at his back. Before the newfar could recover, Butcher’s sword took out his throat a second before her Shield Bash took the bastard off his feet. While the Rogue was busy clutching at his nose and falling onto his back, the swordswoman leapt on him.

  Leaping on top of the bloody Rogue, Butcher Shield Bashed the newfar again as she savagely rammed her sword into the man’s guts. With her much higher level, she was able to overpower him relatively easily. Holding him down with her body weight, she straddled him using her knees to trap the man’s arms, while repeatedly hammering the edge of her shield into the newfar’s neck. At the same time, her sword hand slowly forced her blade up towards the middle of his chest, slowly gutting him as he silently screamed out in horror.

  Butcher wasn’t sure how many times she’d struck at the soft, fleshy skin of the Rogue’s neck. She’d kind of lost herself in the moment while she was fighting for her life. Coming somewhat back to her senses, she saw that there was only the spinal column keeping the man’s head attached. With a wordless scream of hate, she smashed through the bone and ripped the newfar’s head off his shoulders as her body shook from the exertion.

  With a grunt of disgust, she tossed the man’s head away and downed one of the health potions she had on her belt. Yanking her blade free from the body, Butcher climbed to her feet and took in the situation. The two hundred troopers that Zinnaemita had kept hidden with her Illusion magic were now visible and fighting against the invaders coming through the gates. Although they’d dropped the fifty or so Rogues that had ambushed her battle line with ease, they’d only managed to take out about twice that number of invaders at the ruined gate.